


The Iceman

by wowriley



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: wholockians, Crossover, M/M, Wholock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowriley/pseuds/wowriley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mycroft Holmes is the Doctor (aka the Iceman), and his new companion is none other than Greg Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this awhile ago and work on it only in small bursts. Even though I will continue to update this, I cannot promise it will be a regular occurrence. Sorry dudes.
> 
> Title is temporary.
> 
> Update: Doing some editing and such.

“Pardon me, but what, pray tell, are you doing?”

Detective Inspector Lestrade was looking very pale and very confused, standing not too far inside the doorway of the Tardis, having wandered in out of curiosity. His mouth was agape, brown eyes flitting about the space as fast as they could manage. Upon the Iceman’s question, he spun, pulled his gun from his holster, and aimed.

After having questioned his understanding of physics, he’d have expected something supernatural. He didn’t want to say alien. He didn’t want to know what kind of creature would have such a machine, what planet they would be from. Images of green scales and multiple gooey limbs flashed in his mind the second he set foot inside. But, much to his surprise - thought it didn’t really register with the giant surprise he was still struggling to wrap his mind around - his assumptions were wrong. 

The being standing inside the police box’s closed doorway was human. Tall, ginger, and dressed in a suit that was more than Greg’s paycheck. The turquoise in his tie only highlighted the color of his eyes, and his mouth, it was _smiling_. 

The Iceman threw his head back slightly as a laugh escaped his lips. Everyone’s reaction was different, of course; this one, however, was amusing to him. The usual ‘it’s bigger on the inside!’ exclamation got old, and he’d never had someone step inside his machine and immediately point a gun at him. It was exciting. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he assured the newcomer, a hint of a smile still playing on his lips.

Greg swallowed a few times, finding his voice. “What is this? Who are you?!” He asked, his firm voice now a mere croak. This felt like a dream. Any second now the gun would disappear and he’d be unable to walk and the man in the machine would start speaking nonsensical things. He’d wake up with vague thoughts of aliens and some oddly coupled words that stood out to him, something like ‘smart days’ or ‘boiling air’.

“Perhaps if you put your weapon away, I could give you some answers.” The Iceman had never been one for guns. If you were smart, you could solve problems without shooting anyone. Even as he knew regeneration was an option, it didn’t seem an appealing choice to the timelord at this point. He’d only spent a hundred years in this form, he was practically newborn - and finally a ginger.

The Iceman held a hand up to show he wasn’t a threat, perfect eyebrows flying upward.  His other hand stayed where it’d gone unnoticed the entire time - on a black umbrella’s handle. Greg hesitated, but after a minute of looking into the Iceman’s eyes in a pointless attempt to stare him down, his hands steadily brought his gun down. He held it loosely at his side, but the look the Iceman gave him indicated that that wasn’t enough. With a huff, he holstered his weapon.

“Very good.”

“Who are you?” His voice was firm now; his eyebrows furrowed, an accusing finger shot out to stab the air at him. Greg had been a DI for so many years, he thought nothing could surprise him. But opening the doors to a suspicious-looking phone box and finding it was bigger on the inside...well.

“You may call me the Iceman,” the timelord replied lightly, walking slowly past Lestrade to the Tardis controls, where he sat his sonic umbrella in the umbrella stand (new addition after his regeneration). He fiddled with a few levers and without looking, he continued. “There’s nothing much more you need know of me, aside from the fact that I am not of this earth.”

Greg was sure this man was crazy at this point. It was a dream, he was hallucinating, he was drunk, or perhaps _he_ was the one mentally unstable; yes, that had to be the case.

“You’re not dreaming.” The Iceman tacked on with a small smile, turning so he could see his visitor.

“That’s just what you would say if I _were_.”

“How can I prove your assumptions incorrect?”

Greg thought about this. Playing along with a dream couldn’t be dangerous - he’d just wake up in a few minutes. But everything he had been doing previously had seemed so real. The paperwork, the bickering between Anderson and Sherlock, the walk to a small coffee shop for a bite to eat before returning home... 

“You still haven’t told me what this place is.” Focus, Greg.

“This is my Tardis - Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. With her I can travel anywhere in time and space. Occasionally I bring a companion.” The Iceman gave Greg a look at this, a look he missed. It had been a very long time since he had had to say goodbye to his last companion, and in all honesty the Iceman was getting lonely. 

“No way.” A hand went up to run through silver hair. “No, that’s impossible.”

“Perhaps on your planet, in this time period. As you don’t have much knowledge beyond Earth, I advise you to refrain from calling this impossible, as it clearly isn’t.”

Greg was silent, the Iceman’s words setting off an inner debate that took several moments to quell.

The following few minutes consisted of more looking around, a few comments about the size, and not very much talking otherwise.

“Travel with me.” It wasn’t a question.

Greg looked up from the levers he was investigating, eyes widening. “Erm...sorry, what?”

“Travel with me.” The fiery glint in the Iceman’s eyes was obvious. It made the detective feel like prey. “Let me show you how unimaginable our universe truly is.”

The DI was caught off guard by the Iceman’s proposal. Travel? Through space? And _time_? This was insane. Shaking his head vigorously, Greg backed away from the console and started toward the doors. “No, no I’m sorry- That’s very kind of you- I just can’t- I don’t- No, I’m sorry.”

“Sir?” The Iceman called, just as Greg had reached the doors. Greg turned back at the formality in his voice (as if it wasn’t there before).

“Yes?”

“If this is all simply a dream, as you say, then how could accepting this offer hurt you?”

He had to admit, the man had a point.

“But I have work in the morning.” His eyebrows went up apologetically.

“We can return at this exact moment in time, whenever you please.” The Iceman put his hands on the console and leaned backwards onto them, victorious. A new companion at last.

“Are you sure?” To this the timelord gave a nod. Greg bit his lip thoughtfully before closing the door and walking back up to where the Iceman was standing. “Okay, then.” The Iceman grinned.

“There is one rule, however.”

“What?”

The Iceman held out his hand. “No guns allowed.”

Sighing, Greg handed over his weapon, knowing he would regret it. He watched as the Iceman walked around the console, opened a hatch, and stowed it away securely. 

“So,” Greg asked, “where are we going?”

“Where would you like?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg's first night/morning on the Tardis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original second chapter will happen eventually, I just thought this flowed better.

An oversized room with a large telly, king sized bed, and plush carpet weren’t exactly what Greg was used to calling his own. The Iceman had fiddled with something within the console and designed it especially for him; but, seeing as they’d known each other just over an hour before he did this, it wasn’t customized much, it was only meant for pure comfort, Greg could see. It was nice, greater than any bedroom he had ever had the chance to stay in before, but it just didn’t feel like home. He wondered briefly how much he would miss his run down flat, with the water pressure that was never consistent, or the  noisy kids upstairs, or that horrid shade of green the bathroom was. Despite its fallbacks, he had to admit it had charm.

It could be found down a series of hallways. The Iceman lead him silently as he wondered just how big this machine could be. On the inside. The door to it stood out from the rest of the inside of the Tardis, made of dark wood and sporting Greg’s name in gold plating in the upper middle. The Iceman opened the door in and gestured for his new companion to enter first.

Greg walked in carefully, like if he moved too fast the dream world would shatter and he’d be back in his own bed. “You’re kidding.” He looked over his shoulder, at the man in the doorway. “How the _hell_ could you make this just appear by messing with a few wires?”

The Iceman smiled wryly. Greg knew he wouldn’t answer other than that, and turned back around to take in every detail.

“I hope it isn’t too much,” the Iceman said from behind him.

“No, no, it’s lovely.” His eyes turned up briefly at the chandelier. Would that break during flight? “But really, you didn’t have to make it so.... All I need is... well I can sleep anywhere.” His desk at the Yard was surprisingly comfy. He didn’t expect anything other than a small bed and a lamp. He’d have been fine without the lamp.

“It was no trouble, I assure you.”

Greg turned back around. “Thank you.”

The Iceman’s smile was more genuine this time. “No trouble.”

“Right.” Greg nodded. “I do have some questions, though.” An arched eyebrow signaled for him to continue. “Er, how do I get back to the main room from here? And you don’t happen to have a bathroom, do you?” Did aliens need bathrooms?

“The bathroom is located up the hall we just came. It’ll be a blue door on the right hand side. As for the console room, there should be a map in the top drawer in that bedside table. It doesn’t cover the entirety of the Tardis, but it covers a large enough area. I don’t think you’ll be venturing out too far immediately.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, smiling. This was going to take some time to get used to.

“Have you eaten?”

Greg nodded. “Just before... this happened.” He jerked his head in the direction of the bed.

“In which case, I will leave you to rest.” The Iceman nodded once, and at Greg’s tight lipped smile, turned and closed the door behind him.

Greg once again faced the room, not knowing what to do. Rubbing his hands together, he glanced nervously down at himself. He was underdressed for his own bedroom.

He kicked his shoes off and placed them by the door, then went over to the dresser the telly was sat on to undress. Though, as he opened the first drawer to put his clothes away, he was surprised again at the Iceman’s forethought. Clean pajamas, underwear, and socks already filled this drawer. Greg opened the drawer beside it, and found two clean sets of jeans and button down combos. Closing both, he opened the one below the underwear drawer, to find it empty, and put his own clothes inside. He went back to the pajamas, navy blue silk and not what he was accustomed to wearing, but they definitely fit; which wasn’t really the strangest thing that had happened tonight.

The sheets were crisp, and the mattress refreshing to his achy muscles that never felt this good lying down at home. Rolling into the center of the bed, he practically moaned at the relief. The lights he had turned off before climbing into bed, and now he looked through the darkness at the television he was too tired to watch. He wondered what kind of channels aliens watched. Then he wondered if humans and whatever species the Iceman was were actually all that different at all.

~

“Your water pressure’s so much better than mine.” Greg rubbed a towel over his hair as he made his way into the console room to say good morning. He’d awoken refreshed, for a change, though he had no idea what time it was. He supposed it didn’t matter, given that they were on a time machine. The damp towel was draped over one of the rails temporarily.

“I’m glad to hear it.” The Iceman emerged from the other side, a small smile teasing at his lips. “I see the clothes fit. Rather nicely, I might add.”

Greg grinned, flattered. “Thank you for these.” He made a show of inspecting his new outfit. “Never thought purple was really my color.”

“Lavender,” the Iceman corrected.

“Right,” Greg laughed. “Lavender.”

“How did you sleep?”

The detective inspector shook his head as he said, “it was fantastic.”

The Iceman smiled again. “Was it a surprise to wake up here this morning? Or has your dream not ended?” He tilted his head, awaiting a response.

“I know I’m awake now, _thanks_ ,” he replied to the other man’s sarcasm, nose crinkling. His stomach chose that moment to produce a growl. Greg blushed. “Er, you don’t also have a kitchen on this thing, do you?”

“Glad you asked, actually.” The Iceman turned to slip his umbrella from its holder. “I do, yes, but I thought perhaps we would eat out.” He strode up to the Tardis doors before looking back at his companion.

Greg walked slower than the Iceman had on his way to the entrance. “That sounds fine, but where?”

This was when the Iceman chose to swing the doors in and reveal their location. Greg had to admit he didn’t recognize it immediately - all he could tell from the people outside was that it was probably in the twenty first century.

“Come with me.”

Greg closed the door behind him and followed the Iceman out into the street. For what looked like sunrise, it was fairly awake. A big city, then. He kept an ear out for what other people were saying, only to find it was in a language he wasn’t fluent in.

“France?”

“Paris, France.”

“We’re in Paris?” The detective inspector asked, have incredulous, half thrilled. Never before had he had this opportunity.

“Well I thought since you were new to this I’d take you somewhere Earthen.”

The pair wove through the people in the street, dodging every morning jogger, Parisian on their way to work, or otherwise early riser that they could. Greg stayed close - whatever he did, he wasn’t going to get lost.

The morning air felt good on their skin. Greg would have liked to stop and enjoy the scenery, but the Iceman seemed to have a certain destination in mind; he walked with purpose. Turning a corner, Greg gasped quietly. From this view he could see the Eiffel Tower. He had the urge to be a proper tourist and take pictures of everything, but restrained himself; mostly because of his lack for a camera.

The Iceman stopped at the entrance to a cafe. “Suitable?”

Greg didn’t care if it was fast food - he was in Paris, he could see the Eiffel Tower, and with the man he was traveling with, he would surely have other similar experiences in the future. 

“It’s perfect.”


End file.
